


Go West

by undomiel (small_flower)



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because I have Chosen Death, Canon Compliant, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grieving, I promise, I update weekly, Implied Sexual Content, Legolas POV, M/M, No Beta, Sea-longing, Third Person POV, Whump, changed the title up because im Like That, happy valentine's day, when i tell you angst i mean ANGST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22710823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/small_flower/pseuds/undomiel
Summary: The Sea has never left Legolas' mind since he first heard the cry of the gulls at Pelargir. As time catches up to the elf, he has to make a choice: to sail to the West, or to stay with his companion, Gimli the dwarf. (previously To the Sea)
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	1. The Bay of Belfalas

“I might have understood if you wanted to pay a visit to the forest of the Elves,” Gimli grumbled as he walked down the cobbled roads. “But why would you ask to come to the Bay of Belfalas, master Elf?”

“Hush, Gimli!” cried his companion softly as he strode towards the dock which overlooked the sea. “Can you not hear it?” Legolas closed his eyes as the breeze took his hair, basking in the salty fragrance of the sea.

“I hear the rushing of the water as it comes and goes, as it does in all rivers and lakes we have passed through.”

For a moment Legolas knelt on the dock, a hand upon a damp spot where the water had splashed. “You cannot hear it then?” he sighed, his voice a mere whisper. “You cannot hear the cry of the gulls?” 

“Even if I could, I would not understand their meaning.” 

“Oh, but I could!” Legolas leapt to his feet. “The gulls, the rolling waves, they call for me to go to them. They call for me to sail to the Undying Lands. And I must, Gimli! How my heart longs to do so!” He outstretched his hand to the horizon, as if to clutch the sight before him. There he stood weeping as the sun began to set upon the glittering sea, staining the water golden as it melted within, retiring from the horizon. 

For a long time Gimli stayed silent, watching as his companion wept at the sea. Finally, he came to him and took his outstretched fingers in his hand, pressing to them a soft kiss. “‘Tis the Sea-longing, is it not?” he asked tenderly. “Alas, I thought it affected Elves only when they had long passed their time in this world -- the likes of Lord Elrond and the Lady Galadriel.

“You grieve so when you look upon this sight, my love. I think it is best we left.” Gimli’s voice was patient but firm, and Legolas relented, for deep down he knew the wisdom of Gimli’s words, that the sight of the sea was only torment to one who had no means or intent to sail. For both of their sakes, Legolas tore his sight from the sea and its pleading call, leaving the gulls to sing songs for no one.

***

In his dreams, the gulls were never beyond mere shapes and shadows, crabain to the untrained eye. Their cries surrounded him like a song, ever the same words in a language he did not know, yet understood: 

_“To the Sea! To the Sea!_

_Friend of Elves, where’er you may be,_

_Come fly now to the Havens,_

_Come sail now to the Sea.”_

  
  


It was as though the sea was upon his face; he tasted it on his tongue. Yet he searched his heart and knew there was no boat that would bear him: his father’s ship would not suffer him, and the same would be said of his cavalier kinfolk, for they would rather bring their hatred of the dwarves to the Undying Lands, rather than that of their own kin. Those who may have cared for him were long gone, for it was but the elves of Mirkwood and some of Ithilien, and no more, that lingered in these lands still. What was he to do? He was stranded on the wrong side of the Sea, and his heart ever threatened to break, were he trapped there for one moment longer... 

“Legolas, peace. Come back to me.” Gimli clasped his hand, pulling him back into consciousness, away from his murky dreams and the cries of the gulls, leaving only his pounding heart. Legolas found his face wet, stained not with the sea, but with his own tears. 

“There now. It was only a nightmare.” The dwarf soothed him, drying his tears with a handkerchief. Then he pulled Legolas’ head onto his lap, an arm wrapped around his quivering form. “There now. Legolas, _ghivashel_ , you’re shaking.

“It is that malady again, is it not?” he grunted, an edge of anger in his voice. “I will never understand it! It has been years since you last saw the sea, yet it affects you as if you were standing in the Bay! It saddens you and weakens you, more often than I would care for.

“It has grown worse recently, Legolas, has it not? I worry about you.”

Legolas sighed, then squeezed Gimli’s thigh as if to comfort him. “The sea is calling for me, _meleth-nin_. It is only the way of the Elves. I am fading, soon to leave and never to return. Such is the peril of our kind.

“Maybe so, but you are young still!” Gimi cried in protest. “There is still much for you to live for in this Age. What of Ithilien? What of your friends, scattered across the lands? What of --” And though he did not finish, Legolas knew that Gimli spoke of himself. 

In his heart pity sprung for the dwarf. For the years since the War of the Ring Gimli had worked tirelessly to ensure that Legolas was happy, even after he had first heard the gulls in Pelargir. Sweet Gimli, who would sit up and night and fret over him whenever the Sea-longing took him, and would say no more of it when Legolas was well again. Gimli, who tried his hardest to sympathise with an Elf, who gave much of his own fortune to travel with Legolas, to all the forests of his kind, feigning interest at the trees they saw along the way. (Legolas knew that, when his back was turned, Gimli’s eye would be kept on him, for he had no interest in trees, and plenty of interest in Legolas.) 

Gently he cupped Gimli’s cheek, pressing a kiss to his frowning lips. “ _Meleth-nin_ , _Gimli-nin_ ,” he murmured. “I forget how differently we see how the time passes. I would not have myself leave Middle Earth until long after you have passed. This I swear upon you.” 

“I would have you do as you please, _azyungâl_ ,” Gimli mumbled, suddenly ashamed of his outburst. “I could not ask otherwise of you.”

“Nay, I swear it. I will not sail.” 

Though he tried to hide it, a noise of relief and satisfaction escaped from the back of Gimli’s throat, and he kissed Legolas’s head. “Why, my good elf!” he whispered. “You are too kind to me, Legolas.”

Legolas smiled, but his heart remained heavy with his vow. A part of him wondered whether he would truly be able to last until after Gimli had passed away, or if the malady would consume him and drive him to madness, right before Gimli’s eye, and he wondered which would pain the dwarf more: if he sailed, or if he stayed. Long after Gimli had begun snoring softly by his side, Legolas lay awake, the cry of the gulls ever haunting his mind. 

***

“My lord Gimli, a message from Minas Tirith. I was instructed to deliver this personally to you, and at the earliest convenience.” 

A young lad stood at the door, one of the more fleet-footed messengers among the dwarves of Aglarond. His face was solemn when he passed Gimli a bound scroll. “Thank you kindly, lad,” Gimli said, passing him a few coins. “You may leave us now.”

“Who was it?” Legolas asked when Gimli returned inside the room. He stood over the stout dwarf, wrapping his arms over his shoulders. Gimli chuckled, leaning onto his companion. He unbound the scroll and raised it so that Legolas would see its contents as well. 

“It’s from Minas Tirith, that’s what the boy said. D’you suppose everything’s alright with the laddie?” Legolas made no answer, but clung to Gimli more tightly as the dwarf began to read its contents out loud: 

“The Court of Minas Tirith hereby announces, with a heavy heart, the passing of King Elessar Telcontar, the First King, and welcomes his son and heir Prince Eldarion Telcontar as the Second King of the Reunited Kingdom.”

He gasped. Legolas gave a strangled cry.

“He’s dead,” sputtered Gimli, dropping the scroll from his hands, his cheeks paling. “Legolas, Aragorn’s dead.” 


	2. The House of Kings

_ Legolas, Gimli, my friends: _

_ There are no words sufficient to express my sorrow as I write this message to you. In my heart there is no doubt that you loved my husband equally as I did, albeit in your own ways that are different than mine. If the grief is not too much, friends, you are welcome to travel to Minas Tirith and honour him. My son will receive you with open arms, and you are free to linger in the city for as long as you wish.  _

_ He passed away peacefully, having fulfilled all he’d wished for in his life. I hope this knowledge brings you comfort, that he was at ease to the very end.  _

_ \- Arwen.  _

“I must go! I must go to Minas Tirith!” 

“You cannot!” Gimli growled, banging a fist on the table. “You are in no way fit to travel! Not with this malady growing in your mind! You know fully well that Gondor lies close to the Sea, and that would make you all the more grieved! Nay, Legolas,  _ ghivashel _ ,” Gimli’s voice softened to a plea. “Stay here. I will meet you when I have returned from Gondor.” 

“I do not ask to go to the Sea,” Legolas whispered, clutching Gimli’s arm. “I will stay in Minas Tirith and be satisfied. But Aragorn was my friend, Gimli, I do but wish to bid him goodbye.” “I will give him your words, my love, I promise you. But I do not want to see you in Gondor.”

“You cannot bar me from going!” Legolas raised his chin in defiance. “I will go, whether you will it or not!” “I do not wish to torture you, Legolas! I only say this because I love you!”

With a thud, Gimli sank onto a chair, his face in his hands. “I do not wish to see you suffer. The pain of mortality is already unbearable for you; the closeness of the sea… I fear it is too much. You will be hurt.” 

“You worry to a fault; he is my friend! I can vouch for myself!

“You only wish to shelter me, to cage me, as if that will protect me from going to the Sea!” With a scoff, Legolas sat opposite the dwarf, his eyes burning fire. “You care not how I feel, only that you can keep me close to you.”

“Do not be angry at me, Legolas,” Gimli whispered. “I love you. That is the reason for all I say and do.” He reached for Legolas’ hand, and gently, Legolas took it. He heaved a sigh. 

“I am sorry for quarrelling with you,” he mumbled. “But it is as Lady Arwen said: I loved Aragorn deeply as a brother, and it would bring me great pain if I cannot bid him goodbye.” Then his voice quivered, and a single tear escaped his eye. Gimli’s gaze softened, and he squeezed Legolas’ hand. “I know,  _ azyungâl _ , I am sorry. You were right; it is selfish of me to forbid your going. I do not know why I said that at all.”

“You cared for me, Gimli. That is all.” 

“Very well, then, Legolas. You can come, but I will be with you every step of the way.” 

“My dear Gimli! I would not have it otherwise.” Legolas kissed Gimli’s hand deeply. “Thank you,” he whispered into his skin. 

“He has really gone, hasn’t he, Gimli?” 

“I cannot believe it myself,” Gimli sighed. “He was so great that for a moment I thought even death would not defeat him. I wish he would have called for us earlier, to say goodbye.” His eyes were downcast in regret. “I would have gone without a question.” “Aye, yet my heart knows that there are no words we could say to him that he would not already know,” Legolas said comfortingly. “Perhaps you are right. But the grief still weighs heavy on my heart.” He turned away, burying his face in his hand.

“ _ Meleth-nin… _ ”

“Leave me a while,  _ ghivashel. _ I would not have you see me cry.” 

When at last Gimli came to bed he found Legolas lying motionless on his side of the bed, his eyes swollen with shed tears. He made no sound when Gimli climbed into bed next to him, but when the dwarf reached for his hand he grasped it until his knuckles were white.

*** 

“Welcome to Minas Tirith, Lord Legolas, Lord Gimli.” 

At the gates of the city stood a maiden awaiting them, clothed in long robes of silver and black. Her face was solemn, but she managed a smile as the pair dismounted their horse.

“There is no need to be so formal, Finduilas, daughter of Arwen,” Legolas said, gathering Arodion’s reins in his hand. “If you are Aragorn’s kin, then you are ours.” Gimli came over to her and squeezed her arm. “How are you holding up, lassie?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“I have seen better days,” she admitted with a sigh. “There is much work to do in my Father’s stead. My brother bears the brunt of it, otherwise he would have received you himself. Mother said to expect you.” 

“Lady Arwen. How is she?” Legolas asked, as Finduilas began to lead the pair into the city. She glanced at her feet as she walked. “She rarely comes out of her room these days. When she does, she is tearful and often gazes out of the windows.” Her voice was filled with sorrow. “She loved him dearly. I do not know if she will recover from this. They say --” She stopped, her voice unsteady. “They say Elves can die of heartbreak.” 

“You leave that for us to worry about, lass,” Gimli said, trying his best to be kind, though his voice held grief. “Your mother is strong of will. She can weather this storm, I’m sure of it.”

“The light has gone from her eyes,” Finduilas murmured in response. Neither Legolas nor Gimli could offer any words that would be truthful and comforting. Hence they walked in silence until they reached their lodging, a small place arranged for them not far from the palace, with a small stable nearby for their horse. “If you have any need, please do not hesitate to contact me,” she said, when the pair had settled and she prepared to leave. Legolas stopped her. 

“If it is not too much trouble, I was hoping that we may visit the grave of King Elessar and pay our respects.”

“Hold, Legolas. Are you certain you wish to go today? We have had a long journey, and surely you are tired.” Gimli held his arm gently. “We can stay in Minas Tirith for as long as we like. We do not have to go today. You -- we can rest for a bit first.” 

“Nay, I wish to go,” Legolas insisted, shaking Gimli’s hand off. “Will you lead us, Finduilas?”

Through the winding walls of the city they travelled, counting each building that paved the way to Silent Street, where Aragorn lay. The architecture had been new and white when Gimli led his kin out of Minas Tirith and into the Glittering Caves. Now they were showing its first signs of age: weathering where rainwater had not dried completely, smudges that had evaded cleaning, and bits of chipping where children had kicked a ball against it too hard. The flora that Legolas had brought into the city from the land of the Elves flourished still: long, healthy vines that crept up the walls of the city, trees that stood strong and proud, flowers that lined the road, lush and ripe with a maturity unseen of it when it was first brought into the city. 

Minas Tirith had grown and flourished with their king, and with his passing a hush fell unto the city, like the barren soil preparing itself for Spring. In the same way, Minas Tirith prepared itself for its new king, and a new beginning upon the city, the same way Spring comes unto the world after a sorrowful Winter. Within the Fourth Age, a new era was dawning, one that felt foreign and distant to Legolas. As an elf, he had weathered many changes in the world, yet this shift felt like one that was too jarring for him to bear. 

Finally they reached the House of the Kings, and before its entrance Finduilas left them, the sight of her father too much for her to bear. Gimli lingered outside for a while, digging his toes in the ground. 

“You head inside first if you wish, Legolas. I wish to… admire the architecture.” 

It was a poorly-crafted lie, but Legolas questioned it no further. He ventured into the hall alone.

A light was cast upon a tombstone, upon which lay Aragorn’s body, preserved in salts and herbs that worked desperately to mask the smell of death. For the most part it was effective, but time and now the scent still hung in the room, never truly gone. On each side of the king were two smaller tombs, half the size of Aragorn’s, and on them bore the inscriptions: 

_ Here lies the hobbit  _

_ Thain Peregrin Took _

_ Guard of the Citadel _

_ Knight of Gondor _

_ Here lies the hobbit  _

_ Meriadoc Brandybuck _

_ Master of Buckland _

_ Esquire of Rohan  _

So the hobbits had passed this way and found their way to Gondor for their final resting place. 

Legolas fingered the engravings, feeling where the stone had been carved out and would soon gather dust. The names seemed too big for the hobbits, the simple-minded mischief makers that Legolas knew and loved from years ago. In his mind the memory of Pippin and Merry were fresh as morning dew -- how they loved to sing and dance, even on the eve of war, how laughter was always present when the two were around, how they were hearty and loyal to their realms to the very end. His heart sank with dread, imagining the thought of such lively creatures lying motionless beneath a stone. Finding it hard to keep himself upright, he sank to his knees, and as he did so hummed an Elvish mourning song, too weakened to remember the words. The House took his sound and echoed it down the halls until it drifted away, away into the light.

“No! Not the little ones!” Gimli’s cry preceded the pounding footsteps as he ran towards the graves, flinging himself at their feet. There he cried into the emptiness of the halls, and Legolas could do nothing but hold him tightly. He soothed and hushed, but even his words of comfort paled against Gimli’s anguished wails that resounded in the House. 

The elf, too, wept, disheartened that he never bid the ones he loved the most goodbye. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't wait for more? Click [here](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/l/ttsch3) for early access!


	3. Evenstar

Silence haunted the house. The days turned like clockwork, though time had long felt like sand in the wind to the elf and the dwarf. What rare visitors they had were all turned away, and no sound except that of muffled weeping could be heard by those who worried enough to press their ears against the walls.

Gimli often paced the house, fidgeting with whatever was in sight. At times he would kick a table or a discarded bag with such force that Legolas would jump. At other times the dwarf would bury himself in the kitchen and cook with what food he could send for, until all his energy was spent toiling over the feast; whatever portion he set out for Legolas would remain cold and untouched. He would retire to bed only when the morning broke, for within himself he held an oath to sit vigil at night, and refused to sleep until the sun had fully climbed the sky. 

For days on end Legolas lay motionless in bed, as if he were cavern out of stone. To Gimli’s worry he began to grow thin in the days that passed, and his skin turned ashen and paper-like. His hands were cold to the touch, as was his face, and his eyes began to lose the lustre that they once held. As Legolas drifted in and out of consciousness he was tempted to let the hunger take him, and in this way slowly fade away until there was nothing left of him. The patterns on the mattress were traced again and again by his fingers until it made undulating shapes in the fabric, which he studied with a newfound intensity. 

In his mind, he thought often of the Fellowship, how they’d contacted each other less and less when at last each had settled into their own lands. They rarely made trips for such frivolous things as friendship, save for a few grand banquets when an anniversary occurred. For a fearful moment, Legolas could not recall the look of Aragorn’s face.

Then it resurfaced in his mind, clear as daylight, until it was too unbearable a sight that he squeezed his eyes shut. 

With a pang, Legolas realised that he knew nothing of Aragorn in his final days. Their chain of letters had dwindled and stopped after Aragorn’s children were born, and Legolas made no effort to continue them. His friend always haunted the back of his mind somewhere, but when Legolas believed him to be alive he saw no reason to pursue him. It had been long since they shared their thoughts as the Three Hunters, huddled over a fire and speaking of the days after the War, if they lived to see it through. Now Aragorn was gone, and Legolas found himself wondering about things he had not considered in a long time.

In his mind a gull cried, and the Sea roared. He cupped his ears with his hands, desperate to block out the sound to no avail. The blood pounded in his ears, the sound echoing relentlessly. Legolas let out a soft cry, writhing, wishing that he would not be called to the Sea. It served only as a reminder that there were more goodbyes to make, and deep in his heart he knew he would not cope with the parting.

A shout came from downstairs, and Legolas shot up, interrupted from his thoughts, Shaking off the sounds in his head, he flew downstairs to the kitchen, where the noise had come from. There Gimli sat, rocking back and forth, clutching a hand that was partially seared, leaving angry, painful welts. He braved a quivering smile when the elf approached.

“That was deliberate, Master Elf, I… the oven…” He gestured uselessly as Legolas crept over and cradled his hand. “You weren’t eating, so I thought I’d try that Elven bread you taught me to make… it is nothing.” Gimli sat up straighter. “It was deliberate. I care not.” 

“Oh, Gimli…” Legolas cried, stroking his hand tearfully. “ _Meleth-nin_ , I have been selfish to you. I have spent days in solitude, nursing my own grievances, not knowing that I have been neglecting yours as well! Yet you are the one that is dearest to me. Forgive me.” “There is nothing to forgive, _ghivashel_. I have treated you the same way, and I am sorry for that, truly I am.” Gimli touched Legolas’ shaking shoulders with his good hand, and for a moment their eyes met. Gently he brought Legolas’ forehead to his own, staying there for a while. There came a silent vow between them: whatever may befall them, they would care for each other. 

“Sit at the table, Gimli, I will fetch a salve,” Legolas murmured, squeezing his shoulder. 

“Will you eat, Legolas?” Gimli asked hopefully. When the elf gave a slight nod, a smile came to his face, and with his good hand he fetched a pot of stew, still warm, that had been set aside for him. 

“Eat first, love. I will be fine,” he insisted when Legolas had returned. “Nay, salve first,” he insisted, removing the lid of the jar and seizing Gimli’s burned hand. Gently he massaged the cooling salve into the wound, smoothing over the blisters and welts with a delicate touch. Whatever tension had been in the dwarf’s body began to dissolve and drift away, and from the back of his throat he made content noises. When Legolas had skillfully bound his hand in bandages he took his hands and kissed them, his eyes shining with adoration. 

“You are wonderful, _amrâlimê_ ,” he smiled. “Now eat, love.” 

The first spoonful tasted foreign on Legolas’ tongue, having gone without food for a long time, even for an elf. As soon as it reached his stomach he realised how truly hungry he was, and eagerly he took one bite and another, until the bowl was empty and his stomach was thoroughly satisfied. 

“I would have made more of that, had I known you would be eating…” “Don’t you fuss, _Gimli-nin_ , I am quite satisfied for now,” Legolas assured him. “Well… how have you been?” The words were sticky and cold in his throat, filling him with shame. He was supposed to know! Gimli interrupted his thoughts, ever knowing, with a kiss.

“Don’t blame yourself, _amrâlimê,_ you’ve done plenty. As for how I _am_ …” He leaned back on his chair and sighed. “The lives of dwarves stretch long compared to that of Men, even the _Dúnedain._ I find myself regretting that I am still alive, an unworthy dwarf such as myself. Perhaps you would understand.” “I do, and it pains me so,” Legolas admitted. 

For a while they sat in apprehensive silence, then Gimli stood up and came behind him. “Sit here, Legolas, I will braid your hair.” “But your hand…” “I will manage, love.” Gingerly he took up his golden hair, which was noticeably duller than it had been when they first set off for Minas Tirith. He sifted through the locks with his skilled fingers, gently working through any knots that had formed. 

“A part of me refuses to believe that our friends are truly gone, and the other part feels all the more burdened now, that we must live and let die.”

“Aye.”

“It is as if a life force is draining within me, Gimli. I do not know how I can possibly carry on.”

“You will be able to, _amrâlimê,_ ” Gimli soothed him. “Grief is but a part of life, and we are no strangers to it.” 

“Gimli, I heard the gulls again.” 

Legolas felt Gimli freeze behind him. “But I will not go to the Sea,” he added quickly. “I will not leave you, I swear upon it.” 

“I have been thinking about your Sea-longing, Legolas. But now is not the time to discuss such matters,” Gimli said, his hands resuming their work. Deftly his fingers secured his hair with a piece of string. “You’re finished, love. I’ve put your hair in a flat braid, good for sleeping in.” “Gimli, _meleth-nin_ , I mean what I say. I would not go to the Sea.” 

“Legolas…”

A soft knock came to the door. Legolas glanced quizzically at the dwarf, who shrugged. Casting their discussion aside for a moment, he moved to open the door, with Gimli trailing close behind him.

“Lady Arwen,” Legolas exclaimed softly at the figure before him. She wore no crown, but a veil spun of translucent black silk that fell down her face. Her dress was grey, save for seven stars that were embroidered on the bodice. “How may we be of service?” Gimli asked, his voice filled with sympathy for the widowed queen. 

“Legolas, Gimli, my friends, I have come to say goodbye.” 

Legolas and Gimli exchanged an alarmed glance. “What? You’re leaving Minas Tirith?” Gimli gasped, taken aback. 

Arwen glanced at the ground, refusing to meet their eyes. “I will make for my grandmother’s house in Lothlórien.” 

“But they have all sailed!” Legolas cried in protest. “There will be nothing there. Surely you know this? What about your children? Your people?” 

Arwen made no reply. Instead, she took one of Legolas’ and one of Gimli’s hands into her own. “I have made my choice, and it was made long ago. Farewell, my dear friends! May you find a better fate than that of mine, though I regret it not.” Then she turned and went down the street, then, the city of Minas Tirith, leaving behind her son the King and her three daughters to rule the lands. From that time on, none of Arwen Undómiel was heard of or seen again in the realm of Gondor. 

“She will find peace, Legolas,” Gimli had said when they returned into the house. But the eyes of Arwen burned still in his mind. They were without light, and in his heart Legolas knew that Arwen had left to die, such was her fate, and she had finally come to meet it. In Lothlórien, barren without the care of the elves, she would fade away, and pass on in abandoned lands. Grief weighed heavy on his heart, for this was another farewell he would have to make. What was worse was that a part of him almost felt connected to Arwen, for his soul was tempted too to fade, unable to withstand any longer the pains of the world. 

When morning came and Gimli came down, he found Legolas hunched over the table, weeping. Then he laid his hand on the elf, and his heart was filled with compassion for him, for deep down he knew that it was time, no matter how hard Legolas tried to be patient for him. He had to let go.

“Legolas, let us return to Ithilien. We’re building you a boat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to go ahead and finish the story, click [here](buymeacoff.ee/i5IDq2F) for early access! <3


	4. Down the River Anduin

“Legolas! Come see what has arrived from Aglarond!” Gimli came running towards the elf, carrying an ornate wooden chest. “What is it, dear?” He looked up from his woodworking to peer at the treasure that Gimli carried. Excitedly his hands fumbled at the rims of the chest, peeling the lid open to reveal a gleaming trove that swam before Legolas’ eyes. He stared, bedazzled.

“Gold and mithril,” Gimli said, his eyes shining. “I will meld these and adorn your boat with them. They are lightweight like a feather, and I will make them thin but sturdy, that your boat may gleam in the sun and catch the light of the moon when you sail!” Legolas sank his hands into the treasure, mystified. “I do not doubt your craft _ , meleth-nin _ , but surely this is a waste? The boat will sail but once, and mithril is so precious.” 

“Consider it a gift from the dwarves!” Gimli declared heartily. “It would be my honour, and that of my kin, to have a small piece of dwarrow-craft residing in the Undying Lands of the Elves. When you look upon this boat, perhaps you then would think of me. I would not have it otherwise!” He bent down to kiss Legolas, thumbing away stray sawdust that had gathered on Legolas’ face. “Don’t work too hard, love. There is always tomorrow,” he said, giving a pointed eye to the wooden planks that Legolas toiled over, that even now had begun to form the basic structure of a boat. The elf smiled. “I know, I know. But this is work that kindles joy within me. I do not feel like stopping until it is finished.”

Gimli’s face turned fond. “Of course, dear. You have spoken of the sea for a long time, and at long last you are preparing to sail there. It heartens me to see you so joyous.” He placed another kiss to Legolas’ hair, bundled carelessly with the sole purpose of staying out of his face. “I’ll fetch a ruler to take measurements of the boat. I will be but a moment.” 

“A moment and not any longer!” Legolas called after him, touching his hand as he went. 

And it was in this way that Legolas and Gimli worked to build the boat that would sail Legolas to the sea. Legolas gathered lumber from the healed forests in Ithilien, and though the wood had a beautiful sturdiness, Legolas was able to shape it into a boat with ease. Gimli made a mithril lining for the boat, and gold carvings adorned with jewels of blue and white, that it made such a humble boat fit for a king to sail upon. He also wove the sails by hand, embroidering upon it runes and shapes that would glow in the moonlight, that it would guide Legolas in the night, as he had promised they would. 

When night began to fall and Legolas’ fingers were red from overuse, they would set down their work and take long walks along the river Anduin. In his age Gimli could not walk for far, so instead they kept a steady, slow pace, admiring every tree and rock that they passed. At times Legolas would let go of Gimli’s hands and dance along the water, his soul alight with joy, knowing that the water they passed would one day lead him to the sea. His hair would glow in the setting sun, its braided jewels catching the last light of twilight. Then he would sing songs in his tongue, scores of music left behind by his kin, that of trees and mountains and of the Sea. 

“I hear Master Gamgee also sailed to the West some time ago,” Gimli had said once as he sat cross-legged on the banks. “I wonder if you will see him there.” “Perhaps I will,” Legolas mused, his feet dipped in the running water. “And Frodo as well! I wonder if he found the solace that he sought when he left.  _ Ai _ , I wonder if he will be there to receive me. That would be a sight for sorry eyes.” He chuckled to himself. 

“My kinfolk will also be there, and despite our differences I cannot deny that my heart longs for a reunion with them. If she will receive me, it would also bring me great joy to see Lady Galadriel again. I would talk to her of you, of course,” he said to Gimli with a gleam in his eye. “Aye,” Gimli said quietly. He took a deep smoke of his pipe, letting the puff out with a heavy sigh. He did not speak any further. 

Legolas yawned and stretched, and his arm fell over Gimli’s shoulders. His other hand slid to his hips. With a playful glance, he tugged at Gimli’s waistband. The dwarf caught his hand. “Daft elf,” he muttered, though his face flushed bright red. Then he took Legolas and kissed him, holding him steady, until they both sank onto the damp ground, the elf on top of the dwarf, and the rumble of the water beneath them. 

***

At long last the boat was polished and the sails were raised, and the first part of Legolas’ quest was complete. It was decided that Gimli would accompany him down the river Anduin until they reached the Bay of Belfalas. There they would spend a few days before Legolas set sail for the Sea, and Gimli would return home to his kingdom. Legolas had left a message to his second, a distant relative, who would be tasked with caring for the rest of the Elves in Ithilien until they sailed to the West. It would not be a hard task for him, Legolas had said when he sealed the letter, for most of the Elves were already on the other side of the Sea. Gimli, too, left his nephew and heir in charge of the kingdom for as long as he was gone. 

For the journey they packed light provisions of food and drink -- enough to last their journey down the Anduin. Legolas left behind most of his heirlooms, save for his bow, still in the same shape as it was when he first received it from the Galadhrim. That he chose to bring with him to the West, for it guarded him and comforted him in moments of fear. Then Legolas bid farewell to his steed Arodion and set him free to the wilds, where he roamed for the rest of his blessed life.

When all was done, they pushed the boat out to the river and set sail for the Sea. It was said that this boat was one of the finest to be seen in the waters of Middle Earth, and the sight of an elf and a dwarf atop this very same boat was one of wonders. Those who bore witness to such a sight would spin tales of it for years to come. 

The journey lasted for a few days, for many of which Gimli was silent. He would sometimes smoke his pipe, and smile when Legolas made a light-hearted comment, but for the most part he kept to himself, staring into the woods as they passed, his brows furrowed. At times Legolas would begin to engage him in conversation, only to stop short, not wanting to disturb his thoughts.

They rented a small house in the Bay of Belfalas overlooking the Sea, and for the days they stayed there they took walks by the cliffs where the water hit the rocks. When the gulls cried, Legolas would laugh, for he knew that they were real, and that his Sea-longing would soon come to an end, and with it all the sufferings of the mortal world would fade away. He took Gimli’s hand often, or draped an arm around his shoulder, for a small part of his heart knew that his days were numbered with the dwarf, and it was a sorrowful thing to imagine his parting with Gimli. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he felt as though the dwarf would grip him tighter than usual. 

“Are you happy, Legolas?” Gimli asked once, watching the blue horizon in the morning. “Very much so,” Legolas replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek. But his voice was strange, as if there was something in his mind still.

“Legolas…” Gimli began. “ _ Azyungâl. Amrâlimê.  _

“I cannot lie to you; it is true that I will miss you dearly. For years you have been the light in my life, the source of my laughter, the beacon I look to when I have to gather my strength. The fact that this will soon come to an end is a great shame to me. But then I see  _ you _ ,” he cupped his cheek tenderly. “I see the way your eyes light up when you look upon the Sea. I see the health return to your skin, and the glow in your hair. You no longer walk like a cursed wraith, burdened with dread, but you sing and dance like a young boy! I see you, Legolas, and I know that letting you go will be worth my own heartbreak.” 

“Gimli…”

“There is nothing I would not do for you, damned Elf!” His voice caught in his throat, and he scrubbed the tears hastily from his face. “Go, then, and be free! It is my one wish for you: to be free.” 

Thus they shared their final night together, holding onto each other until the dawn began to creep out of the Sea. Then Gimli braided Legolas’ hair with green and blue gemstones and prepared a small pack for him. It was not a long walk to the docks, but they spent it slowly, cherishing every step they took.

When all was settled in the boat, save for the elf himself, he pressed a necklace into Legolas’ palm. “I’ve worn this since I was a wee lad,” he said. “If you ever miss me. In case you do.” Then a pensive silence hung between them. Legolas turned to the sea.

It was a beautiful morning: the waters were open and blue, its waves calm and inviting. The breeze brushed past his face, swift but gentle, and the salt clung onto his tongue. It was as if the Sea itself beckoned him to go, and everything in his body spurred him forward, into the boat and away to sea. It was the last piece in the puzzle, it was his fate, and it waited for him to fulfill it.

He took two strides forward. Then, he stopped. 

“I… I don’t suppose I’ll go to the Sea anymore. In truth, I don’t think I want to sail.” 


	5. The Choice of Legolas

“What would you have me do, Legolas? Sail the boat back up the Anduin?” Gimli paced the room, chewing on his nails. Before him Legolas lay on the bed, his face in his hands.

“I know not! Question me not!” he snapped, throwing himself deeper into the pillows. “I do not seek to interrogate you,  _ ghivashel _ , but you must tell me what is it that you want!” Gimli sat on the bed with a muffled thud. “We have come all this way, we have spent  _ weeks _ toiling over a boat, and now,  _ now _ you choose to turn back? Legolas, you will never be the same Elf ‘ere you return. Your Sea-longing will only grow worse as the years pass, and you will always think of today -- how you deprived yourself of the one thing you long for above all!” 

“I do not long for the Sea,  _ meleth-nin _ , more so than I long for you!” 

“Gimli, Gimli,” Legolas sighed. “I have been foolish yet again. When I first thought of sailing to the Sea, I thought it would bring me peace at last. I thought I would never see grief again. I imagined being among friends, I imagined that I would heal, and that no pain would ever cross my mind again. 

“Perhaps it is true that time will eventually bring away the pain of Aragorn’s passing, and that of the hobbits, and all the friends we have watched wither over the years. But now I realise that there is one more parting I would have to see through: yours. I could never bear it, Gimli. If I am separated from you, then I will die of heartbreak. If we were to never see each other again, then how is it different than the separation of death?”

“You exaggerate, Master Elf. I am but a dwarf, a mortal companion of yours. You will survive and find happiness in the West, I am sure of it,” Gimli urged him, though his own face was guarded and would not meet his eye. 

“How could you say that, Gimli,” Legolas exclaimed softly, “after all the time we have spent together? You are Gimli,  _ my  _ Gimli. I have chosen to defend you, to love you, and to stay by your side, and for all these years I have upheld my oath. We are bonded not by sword and shield, but body and soul. How can I easily leave your side, and  _ heal _ from this, as you say?” He gave an incredulous laugh. “I cannot.”

“That’s a lot of words for ‘I love you’,” Gimli said gruffly. He reached for Legolas’s hand. 

“And I have a thousand more to say, if you will suffer me,” Legolas replied. “I will spend the rest of our lives saying it on the wrong side of the Sea. It is simple, Gimli: we are bonded, and I cannot be parted from you.” 

“You are kind to me, Legolas, beyond my fortune. And perhaps you are right that we are bonded in a sacred way. But I have seen how the Sea-longing affects you. It takes away your life force, you say it yourself! Legolas, my love, I have spent years gathering up the courage to tell you to build the boat, and I have been selfish in delaying it, so I may delay you for myself. But I know that it’s time for you to go, I just know it. I cannot stand in the way of your fate.

“You will have to make your choice, Legolas: to stay with me, and perish like Arwen, or to sail to the Sea, where you will live long and recover from your pains. And I hope for both our sakes you pick the right one!” 

Legolas stood up abruptly. First he opened his mouth in defiance, then he shut it, for a thought had come into his mind. He held Gimli’s necklace in his palm and he thumbed it as he paced the room. If Legolas’ mind were made of cogs and wheels, one would see them turning slowly now, greased by a spark of inspiration. 

“What if… what if I do not make the choice?” 

“You cannot avoid it forever, Legolas.”

“I don’t mean it like that, Gimli.” He turned to the dwarf, his eyes shining. “If I  _ must _ sail to the Sea, and I  _ cannot _ be parted from you… then there really is only one choice I have.” 

“No, you jest.” Gimli’s face widened as the realisation dawned upon him. Legolas grinned, seeing that he had begun to understand. 

“All I have to do is to take you with me.” 

“Has it been done before?” The dwarf’s jaw had all but hit the ground. Legolas shrugged. “Not to my understanding, no. You would be the first and only dwarf to sail to the Undying Lands.” 

“Why, this cannot happen! It simply cannot.” 

“And why is that, Gimli?” Legolas challenged him. 

“Well, the Undying Lands are sacred to the Elves, surely you know this: only a handful of the Halflings have made it in, and for accomplishing great deeds of carrying the One Ring, may I add! Not to mention the fact that I am a dwarf: the bane of your kind. I would not be welcomed there, and if you bring me, perhaps it would cost your admittance as well. I cannot have that!” 

“But Gimli, can’t you see?  _ This  _ is our fate, to sail together. The boat we built was intended for two people: one elf, and one dwarf. We are the ones to reconcile our kinds, and without you it could not have been achieved. Yes, you are a dwarf, but you honour Lady Galadriel greatly, and you are known to our kinds as an Elf-friend as a result. If there is any dwarf that could make it to Valinor, it is you. I do not know either if we will succeed, but for our sakes,  _ meleth-nin _ , we must try. We must.”

“I do not know what to think of this,” Gimli chuckled nervously. “Me? Sail to the Undying Lands? Leave the world behind?”

Legolas’ face fell. “I have been selfish again, Gimli, forgive me,” he whispered. “You are the lord of a prosperous kingdom, and I have no right to ask you to leave all of it behind for my sake. You do not have to sail if you wish not to.” 

“Do not put words in my lips,  _ ghivashel _ ,” he chided gently, squeezing Legolas’ hand. “I never said that I did not want to sail. In fact, the more I think of it, the more I think that you are right. My nephew is ripe and ready to assume leadership of Aglarond, and I know that my people will love the lad as dearly as they have loved me. He will be a good lord to them, and his heir after that, and the dwarves will prosper.” His eyes shone wistfully as he spoke, with a tint of sweet sorrow in his voice. 

“And yes, Legolas, dear, I am growing old. My bones ache, my hair is dull and grey, and I feel it, deep in my heart. Some days I wonder how much more of this world I could endure were it not for you.” He held Legolas close to him. “I think I will go. It is worth a try.” 

“It is decided, then?” Legolas breathed, hardly able to contain his excitement. “We will sail together, to Valinor?” 

“Yes, if it is your wish, my love.” 

“It is,” he breathed, pressing his lips to Gimli’s. His hands worked tenderly to drape his necklace back around his neck, his fingers lingering on the pendant that hung before his chest. “Together.” 

And it was in this way that it was decided that Legolas Greenleaf would sail to the Sea, and that Gimli the dwarf would be going with him. Gimli wrote a final letter to his nephew and had a messenger pick up the scroll before the night fell. When the sun rose again on the second day, they raised the sails once more and climbed into their boat, destined for one elf, and one dwarf. Then, they rowed out to the Sea.

The sun was high in the sky, the clouds sparse and white, and above them the gulls sang sweetly, no longer the tormenting calls that had plagued Legolas for years. The Bay of Belfalas was blue and pristine that day, and the ships that came and went were bustling with activity -- such was the life of Men, and the world that now belonged to them. Legolas found no fear, only peace, in leaving it behind. And by the content expression on Gimli’s face, he knew that the dwarf felt the same way. 

As the Bay of Belfalas began to fade from sight, Legolas basked in the presence of the Sea, feeling as though every dream was finally realised. He looked upon Gimli, his grey-speckled beard flying in the wind, his eyes taking in the sight before him, and his hand ever clutching Legolas’. The pains of the past began to fall away, and with every second, Legolas felt his heart settle with a serenity that would last them for the rest of their long lives. 

Thus he took up his bow, kissed it farewell, and cast it into the water, for he knew that he would not be needing it for the rest of his days in Valinor. His arms would never ache for battle again, his heart would never fill with dread, and he would never be wary or fearful of death. He had made his peace with the world, and needed no weapon against it.

When Gimli stared at him, shocked, he only laughed. 

_ “To the Sea! To the Sea! Westwards go I _

_ Where the west wind blows and the seagulls cry _

_ A new life awaits the dwarf and I  _

_ When we have bid all but each other goodbye.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sponsored by Go West by Pet Shop Boys. No, seriously, it gave me the inspiration to write the whole damn thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/v0uifhaemj6ofd9lwhi4eigfc/playlist/32EDJNCPU9sfIvvrB05f0f?si=m8oyNFkSRiq4RjnaMS2gMA) to go with the story in case you're interested. I had a lot of fun writing this, so thank you for sticking around for the ride! 
> 
> Check out my [tumblr](skyofmithril.tumblr.com) if you want updates on other Gigolas-related things that I write! I also blog about lotr once in a while. 
> 
> If you liked what you read, click [here](buymeacoff.ee/i5IDq2F) to support my work!


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